Snapped Back
by Ellex
Summary: Adjusting to the aftermath of 'Snapped' proves to be more difficult than Sheppard or McKay realized. Sequel to 'Snapped', by livengoo.


Title: Snapped Back

Sequel to **'Snapped'**, written with kind permission from Gooligan and Kamelion

Season 2, post _"Runner"_

Feedback: Please and thank you.

Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis is not owned by me, nor do I make any material profit from this story.

Spoilers: Season 2 - Runner, Duet

Warnings: some slashy overtones, violence

Summary: Adjusting to the aftermath of 'Snapped' proves to be more difficult than Sheppard or McKay realized.

A/N: The delay in finishing this story, which grabbed me by the brain and wouldn't let go after I read 'Snapped', has everything to do with RL and a number of vicious plot bunnies, and nothing to do with the wonderful advice I received from Kam and Goo.

Goo, I actually completely rewrote this story according to the advice from your excellent feedback. While it greatly improved the story in some places, I was unhappy with the result in others. The result is a combination of the two. I appropriated this 'verse – I couldn't quite imitate the writing style.

I strongly advise reading – or rereading – **'Snapped'**, listed here under the author name **'livengoo'**, before you read this story.

* * *

Sheppard sat alone in the mess hall, staring at his PDA while he finished his meal. He seemed oblivious to the animated conversation at the next table where McKay, Zelenka, and a group of other scientists sat. He looked up only once, when Zelenka snorted loudly and proclaimed Rodney to be 'not the biggest brain, but the biggest ego in the Pegasus Galaxy.'

McKay glanced his way at the same time, and flushed slightly, quickly looking away. John felt his own face grow hot as Rodney re-entered the conversation with renewed vigor, hands flying through the air as he tried to convey his thoughts to the others.

The high-collared shirts hid the bandage on his neck, but every time Rodney moved his hands, John could see the heavy bruising around his wrists that was just starting to fade.

He knew Rodney had forgiven him for his appalling behavior a few days ago, but things had changed between them since that moment. They were friendly – but they weren't friends anymore. Rodney didn't go out of his way to avoid John, but he didn't seek him out, either. He didn't wait for John to come and drag him out of his lab for lunch, or dinner, or movie night…

He closed his eyes momentarily in self-disgust. He wasn't in junior high, to be dwelling on who sat with him at the lunch table.

He viciously punched a few buttons on the harmless PDA, then abruptly stood and tossed his meal, half-eaten, in the trash, and left the mess hall.

OOOOOOOO

Rodney McKay surreptitiously watched Sheppard stalk out of the room, only half-aware of the continuing discussion around him. When he returned his attention to his surroundings, he found Zelenka watching _him_ with a raised eyebrow. A slight nod of Radek's head was all the communication he and the Czech needed to excuse themselves and head back to the lab.

"There is something wrong with Colonel Sheppard? Between him and yourself?" Zelenka asked almost immediately after they left the mess hall.

"No! No, of course not. Why would you think that?" Rodney's protest came a little too quickly.

"Because you watch him. He watches you. I am not blind, however many times you insist I am. What is wrong?"

"Nothing! He's just – he's upset about Lieutenant Ford. Which is perfectly natural, but if he's thinking about that, he isn't paying attention to what's going on around him, and it's not – it's not safe. We could be out on a mission, and he'd be distracted, and some – something could happen. Someone could get hurt, if Sheppard isn't…"

"_You_ could get hurt, is what you mean."

Rodney put on his most affronted expression, but deflated under Zelenka's cool appraisal. "Yes, if you like. _I_ could get hurt."

"And you worry about meeting the Lieutenant again. He might want to take revenge for being shot by you."

McKay halted in the middle of the corridor, and Zelenka turned to face him. "Well, of course I'm worried about meeting Ford again. I couldn't – he wasn't listening, he wasn't rational. He just flipped out!"

"And you, of course," Radek continued, "are perfectly rational at all times." He smiled slightly to take the sting out of the statement.

"What are you, my therapist? We already have one headshrinker on Atlantis, we don't need another."

Zelenka just continued to gaze calmly and expectantly at him, and it didn't take long for Rodney to break under the silent stare.

"Okay, okay! It's not his fault, I do understand that. People just flip out sometimes, and he has a perfectly good reason to do so. I did it myself once, a week before presenting my first dissertation. But I never _bit_ anyone. God, it still itches. I'm sure it's going to leave a scar." He pushed past Radek and hurried towards his lab, his hand creeping up to rub at the edges of the bandage on his neck.

Both Carson and Elizabeth had questioned him at length about Ford, wanting to know in exhaustive detail how he'd looked, what he'd said. He kept telling them that it was Ford who had bitten him, but it was difficult to fit that into the actual sequence of events, and he'd never been a believable liar. And blaming Ford only made him feel worse, because the young Marine was going to have enough to deal with if – no, _when_ -- he came back. Finally, Rodney had practically screamed at them to leave the subject alone, which only made them exchange worried looks and tell him in overly gentle tones to calm down.

"Rodney, it is perfectly understandable to be frightened of Lieutenant Ford. You talk to Heightmeyer, she will tell you this." Zelenka caught up to him outside the door of the lab.

McKay clasped his hands behind his back to hide the tremors in them. "I'm not afraid, I'm – I'm just uncomfortable discussing this subject. This stupid post-traumatic stress stuff is nonsense, no matter what Heightmeyer tells you. Tell her I don't appreciate her getting you to pester me about it. It's underhanded and she won't get any secrets out of me this way. I'm not repressing or hiding anything."

He shoved past Radek, unable to meet the smaller man's eyes.

OOOOOOOOOO

Extra personnel meant extra paperwork, even if it was all on the computer rather than paper. John stared at the PDA, unable to concentrate on it in his office any more than he could in the mess hall. Finally he shut it down with an impatient sigh.

"Teyla?" he tapped his radio. "You up for a round of kicking my ass again? Meet you in fifteen? Okay, good."

Thirty minutes later, John was flat on his back and swearing viciously at himself while Teyla leaned on a stick, wearing an excellent imitation of McKay's best smirk. It faded quickly when he didn't get up right away.

"Colonel? I have not hurt you?"

"No, no…I'm just annoyed with myself. I can't seem to concentrate on anything today."

A gentle, ironic smile curved her lips. "I noticed. Is there anything I can do to help?"

He accepted the hand she offered and hauled himself upright, staggering over to a bench and slumping onto it with a groan. "Maybe next time you could not hit me so hard? I know, I know, 'if I do not make it memorable how will you remember the lesson?'"

She handed him the water bottle and he took it gratefully.

"I was wondering…I know you and Rodney don't exactly spend time together outside of missions, but I know he likes you, and he trusts you, which is the important part. Do you think you could teach him some hand to hand combat? Maybe a little bit of stick-fighting? I think he'd take instruction better from you than he would from me – I mean, you're so patient, and he respects you a lot…" He kept his head lowered while he spoke, the words spilling out of his mouth in a rush.

"Did you not teach him to use a gun? He has learned that quite well. Or at least, when he does not eject the clip, he is a very good marksman."

"No, um…" John rubbed absently at his wrist. "He learned how to use a gun before we came to Atlantis, before I even met him. I just made him practice it. But that's not the same as the hand-to-hand stuff, and he's not – we're not – I don't think he'd be comfortable learning from me, is all."

"I will speak to Doctor McKay, then, and offer my services as teacher. He may not accept, you know, and I have no means to force him. Nor would I, if I did. But I assume you think he would be willing?" At his nod, she continued. "And why do you bring this up now, after more than a year? He – or you – could have asked me for instruction at any time." She gazed at him shrewdly. "He will never be a warrior, you know. It is not in his heart. And you cannot protect him from everything that is out there, nor does he truly expect you to be able to."

John's mouth dropped open. "How…you…what, are you psychic now?"

Teyla laughed softly. "You worry. It is what makes you a good leader of your people. Doctor McKay's encounter with Aiden has made you worry more for his safety, of late. That much is clear to anyone who knows you." She turned away and began to gather up her belongings. "You should tell him of your concerns. I think he would be gratified to know that you wish to see him better able to defend himself."

"Yeah…maybe." When she raised one elegant eyebrow at him, he rolled his eyes and said, "Okay! You're right, I should talk to him."

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sheppard convinced himself to seek out McKay immediately, knowing that if he left it too long he'd never broach the subject, but continue in their mutual game of avoiding sensitive issues. The scientist would undoubtedly be in his lab at this time of day. Maybe there would be some interesting device that needed turning on, something that they could play around with. They hadn't had the opportunity to do anything like that in months, and he still remembered pushing Rodney off the balcony and watching him spring to his feet on the floor below with a huge grin on his face. He wanted it to be like that between them again.

John paused in the doorway of the lab. There was a whole gaggle of geeks in there, crowded around a table, watching as Rodney carefully slotted pieces into place on a large, complicated device. Each time he slid a piece home, the thing glowed brighter, colors shifting across its surface. The light reflected on the fascinated faces around him.

"Now," Rodney was saying, "if this works the way I think it does, we should be able to use this to cloak the city without having to tie in one of the Puddle Jumpers or dropping the shield."

He quickly and deftly put the machine together, making small adjustments, until suddenly the light flared, the mechanism sparked violently, and Rodney stumbled back.

John stepped forward and caught him before he lost his balance completely. Rodney flinched, jerked out of John's grasp and scrambled away.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, trembling, showing that fight-or-flight readiness again. The room went utterly silent.

John put his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender, watching as Rodney slowly relaxed, the scientist's face flaming with embarrassment as he took in the astonished faces staring at them.

"I – you – you, um, caught me by surprise, Colonel." Rodney straightened up, trying to regain his dignity.

"I'm sorry, Rodney," John tried to put more meaning into those words than the situation warranted. "I'll, uh, go now…" He turned away and almost ran down the hall.

"Maj- Colonel!"

He stopped and looked back to see Rodney standing in the doorway of the lab.

"Was there something you wanted?"

"No – no, I was just passing by – just forget I was even here – " John choked out, and walked quickly away, feeling Rodney's eyes burning holes in his back. When he turned the corner, he stopped and leaned against the wall, pressing his hands flat against his thighs to stop them from shaking. His heart was racing, sweat making his shirt damp from the flash of heat that had run through him when he caught Rodney. He fought off the urge to go back and drag the scientist out of the lab…

_He wanted to do it again._

He wanted to pin Rodney to the ground, hold his wrists so he couldn't wave those expressive hands around, so that John could talk to him without distractions or interruptions. He wanted Rodney to realize how foolish he'd been, that Ford, or a Wraith, or even Ronon Dex could have hurt him, killed him, that Rodney really needed to stop provoking people because John couldn't always be there to keep him safe.

The way he should have been with Rodney on P3M-736.

But John had taken Teyla with him, because McKay was being more annoying than usual, going on at length about UV radiation and insisting on wearing that stupid suit, and John wanted to find Ford, could think about nothing but Ford. He knew that with Teyla he could move faster, that Teyla might be a calming influence on the young man, would be better back-up if everything went to hell.

He'd thought Ford would come to him, or to Teyla, not McKay. Why would he go to Rodney? John knew Ford didn't particularly like Rodney, that he found the scientist abrasive and rude, that Ford had never really seen the insecure, witty, and surprisingly brave man underneath.

Breathing deeply, John pulled himself together, pushed away from the wall, and made his way back to the training room. It took nearly an hour of intense practice with Teyla's sticks for his hands to stop shaking.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Several days later, John had to wonder what he'd done to deserve such torture. Seeing Rodney collapse – not once, but several times – had been excruciating. Watching the man talk to himself, listening to a voice that only he could hear, was disturbing to the point where John could hardly stand to be in the same room as Rodney. And by the same token, he couldn't stay away. He was absurdly grateful for the distraction Ronon Dex provided, but spent half his time following Rodney around, pretending to meet up with him coincidentally.

Rodney was so preoccupied that he seemed almost to have forgotten about the tension between them. He watched as the scientist's body language shifted without warning, hips tilted, chest out, gestures smooth and oddly feminine. Lieutenant Laura Cadman used Rodney's body with a disconcerting confidence and ease. What would have been a normal stride on a woman, the roll of hips and swing of arms, became a jaunty strut in Rodney's body that seemed like an invitation. He could see the switch from one to the other, could see the rising terror in Rodney's movements, the suppressed panic in Cadman's, the way each fought with increasing desperation for control.

When he heard about Rodney's seizure, he had to duck into an empty room and sit on the floor with his head down, taking deep breaths, before he could walk calmly to the infirmary and behave like a concerned friend.

And watching Rodney kiss Beckett, even though he knew it was really Cadman, provoked a surge of conflicting impulses. He wanted to tear Rodney and Carson apart, wanted to somehow reach down Rodney's throat and rip Cadman out of him, wanted to have Rodney inside _himself _where John could keep him safe from harm. He wasn't quite sure if he felt jealous of Cadman for having the opportunity to be closer to Rodney than anyone ever had been or ever would be, or angry with her for not appreciating it.

John had time to think about that last concept while they waited for Rodney and Cadman to wake up, sitting with Elizabeth and Zelenka, propping his head on his fist.

"It's been an interesting few days, hasn't it, Colonel?" Elizabeth said softly. "Of all the things we've encountered since we stepped through the Gate, I think this must be the strangest."

"Huh? Yeah, I guess so," he replied, dragging his attention back to his surroundings with difficulty. He shifted restlessly on the hard chair. Cadman was already awake, turning her head to look at the scientist every few minutes.

John finally decided he wasn't jealous of her after all. Being that close to Rodney, no matter how intriguing, wouldn't make up for the loss of identity and control – and John had enough issues with self-control already.

He closed his eyes to block out the sight of Rodney lying still and pale on the other side of the room.

"I'm afraid it may take Rodney some time to bounce back from this," Elizabeth continued. "For all his seeming arrogance, he's easily embarrassed. I can't imagine what it must be like to have to share your body with someone else, particularly someone so completely different as Laura Cadman is to Rodney."

John didn't reply, deliberately keeping his eyes closed.

"I think I'm going to have to insist that he continue to see Doctor Heightmeyer about this…Lieutenant Cadman, as well, although I'm sure they'll both argue against it. He seemed so…angry. I don't think I've ever seen Rodney that upset. Have you –?"

"No," he interrupted. "No, not that – angry."

"You're his friend, John. Can I ask you to keep an eye on him for me – let me know if you think he's having problems adjusting? There are things you might notice, as a man, that he would be unwilling to speak to Doctor Heightmeyer about."

"Sure," he said shortly. "No problem." He heard the rustle of bedclothes and opened his eyes to see Rodney beginning to stir. As much as he wanted to spring to his feet and rush over to McKay's side, he forced himself to rise slowly and deliberately joined Elizabeth beside Cadman's bed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He did his best to leave Rodney alone for a few days afterwards, clutching that 'you're cool – I'm fine' remark in his memory like a security blanket, as some small indicator that their friendship hadn't been completely ruined. Even with Lieutenant Cadman out of his head and back in her own body, his scientist was still visibly twitchy and the last thing John wanted to do was exacerbate that.

But after barely twenty-four hours, he found himself following Rodney again, watching as he tried to suppress sudden, irrational flashes of temper. He got up and abruptly left in the middle of conversations, and John tracked him to his quarters, where Rodney was spending most of his time. He had managed to spot Rodney meeting Katie Brown in the mess hall, where a quiet, intense conversation in the corner ended with Brown bursting into tears and fleeing the room, followed after a minute by Rodney, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to pass out or throw up. But rather than going after Brown, Rodney went to the infirmary, where John saw him approach Beckett. They spoke together for a few minutes before Carson handed Rodney a single pill that John recognized as Valium.

The sight of that little pill made John's stomach clench and turn acidic. He had difficulty keeping himself from going straight to Beckett and interrogating him.

He compromised by hanging around outside Heightmeyer's office the next morning, knowing Rodney had a appointment with her, intending to sidle up to Rodney as if he'd been innocently passing by, and invite him to join John for lunch.

He wasn't prepared for Rodney to storm out, snarling at Heightmeyer.

"-don't blame either of you, it was a difficult situation for everyone, although I would have appreciated a little more consideration…but it's over, everything has been fixed, and I don't want to talk about it, okay? I'm only here because Elizabeth insisted – again – but if you don't mind, I'd like a little time to, say, process things? The last few days have been the most embarrassing of my life. I promise you, I will eventually talk to someone about it. But _not right now_."

"Rodney – " Heightmeyer followed him out, " – you need to deal with this. Putting it off will only make it harder later on. You've experienced a traumatic event –"

"My life has been a series of traumatic events since I stepped through the Stargate," he rounded on her, looming over the petite blonde, almost threatening in a way Sheppard had never seen before. "I have appreciated your help, but I'm telling you for the last time: I do not want to talk about this now."

"But –"

Rodney put his hands on Heightmeyer's shoulders and pushed her firmly back into her office. He palmed the door mechanism and it slid shut, cutting off whatever she had been about to say.

John stood there with his mouth hanging open, forgetting to duck out of sight when Rodney turned away from the door. Something John couldn't interpret flickered across the scientist's face before his expression settled into an uneasy combination of smirk and glare.

"Enjoying the show, Colonel?" His voice was sharp and dripping with sarcasm.

"I hate to say it, Rodney, but she's right. You need to talk to someone about this. You haven't been yourself lately."

"No, Colonel, I _haven't _been myself lately, in an unexpectedly literal fashion. In case you hadn't noticed, I was forced to share my body with another person for several days. I think that entitles me to a little slack – just a_ little_ - while I try to adjust. And don't think I haven't noticed you following me around. I've been extremely patient about it, but it's time to stop." Rodney turned on his heel and began to walk away.

"Rodney, wait!" John reached out and grabbed his arm. He caught a glimpse of Rodney's face, dark with fury, as he turned back. A moment later John was lying face down on the floor, Rodney heavy and unmoving on top of him, pinning John with surprising ease. He had no clue where Rodney had learned that move, but odds were good that Teyla had taught it to him – and some part of him was inordinately pleased to know that Rodney had been learning to defend himself. He unquestionably had the weight advantage over John, and was using it. A knee in the small of his back forced the air out of John's lungs and his wrists were pinned to the floor in a grip that John thought might be stronger than his own.

Rodney leaned in close and growled, "Is this how you want it, Sheppard? Is this the way you like it? Feeling someone struggle helplessly under you, unable to fight back?"

John tried a move that should have freed himself, but he had no leverage in this position. In response, Rodney moved his knee off John's back and straddled him, leaning down until his torso was pressed against John. The weight compressed his chest so that he could only take shallow breaths, head spinning from shock and lack of air. He could hear Rodney breathing heavily in his ear.

He twisted his wrists against the weaker thumb joint of Rodney's hands and was surprised all over again to feel Rodney's grasp tighten until bone grated against bone.

"Rodney – !" he gasped, squirming, and suddenly something hard and hot ground against him, the seat of his BDU trousers far too thin to disguise the sensation of Rodney thrusting against him.

"You, " Rodney snarled, panting, "are – not – my – " He cut himself off without finishing, ducking his head down to place his teeth on John's neck just above his collar.

A breathy, inarticulate cry escaped John as he tensed, waiting for Rodney to bite down, to mark him the way he'd marked Rodney –

But the pain never came, just Rodney's hot breath on his neck, tight grip on his wrists, heavy weight on his back, and the thick, pulsing heat pressed against him.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Rodney shivered against him, his entire body shuddering as he groaned, then rolled off John and slumped against the wall.

"Damn you, Sheppard," he whispered hoarsely.

John's hands shook as he pushed himself up off the floor, every muscle stiff and aching as days of unrelieved tension slowly bled away.

"Yeah," he agreed, staggering slightly as he lurched to his feet. He studied his scientist for a moment, tired and dizzy and bruised, inside and out, knowing Rodney felt the same way.

He held out his hand, watching as Rodney slowly focused on it, then raised his eyes to John's face. He didn't know what Rodney could see there, but he hoped it was the same thing he thought he saw in the bloodshot blue eyes: regret for what they'd done to each other; the lingering remnants of the deepest friendship either man had ever experienced; worry that they had destroyed that connection forever; the terrifying, overwhelming heat of rage that demanded complete surrender from it's object; the stomach-clenching fear that they might lose each other to one of the many dangers that pervaded their lives; and the sudden restoration of balance between them, accompanied by a powerful surge of affection that John thought – hoped – feared – would outlast anything that might come between them.

Rodney reached up and took John's hand, allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and into John's arms. Their embrace was carefully polite at first, but John deliberately tightened his grip, and after a moment, felt Rodney relax a little and squeeze briefly in return. He heard a suspicious sniffle from Rodney and had to blink his own eyes rapidly before they broke apart.

"Hungry?" John asked.

Rodney's lips curled into a wry smirk. "Starving. I have a few MRE's in my quarters," he offered.

John felt his own mouth split into a grin. "Sounds good."

fin


End file.
